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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25842943">A Roll Of The Dice</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agent3Novi/pseuds/Agent3Novi'>Agent3Novi</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Legend of Zelda &amp; Related Fandoms</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anxiety, Anxiety Disorder, Character Study, Delusions, Dissasociation, Gen, Link (Legend of Zelda) Needs a Hug, Link has a bad time, Recovered Memories, Reincarnation, Why Did I Write This?, but then the next day you screw up and suddenly u want to die?, headcanons galore, honestly I just had a rough week when I wrote this and decided to project onto Link, no beta we die like men, not in any particular game but is at least at the tail end of the timeline, probably?, that's this fic, u know those days where you screw up and everything's okay, vent fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 04:48:11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>480</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25842943</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agent3Novi/pseuds/Agent3Novi</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>"<i>Link’s life felt like a game of dice.<br/>Some days everything was fine. He knew he was Link, the ten-year old goody-two-shoes of Hateno Village. The smart, quiet kid who almost everyone liked but only a few really loved.<br/>...<br/>Some days, stuff was a little off, but he was still fine. His head would be too stuffed full of half-remembered places and names to bother with other people. Besides, he wasn’t sure he’d remember who he was supposed to be around them if he did.<br/>...<br/>Some days, everything was entirely <strong>fucked.</strong></i>"<br/>---<br/>(Or wherein the author had a really rough week, wrote this out, left it for a week, then decided to actually post it)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>19</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>A Roll Of The Dice</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Hellooooooo and welcome to Novi Projects Her Issues Onto Her Favorite Characters Again, round who-the-heck-knows.</p>
<p>This is a vent/projection character study fic, plain and simple. Please heed the tags I'm begging you, this is a pretty rough ride and I don't want anyone to get squicked or triggered by it.</p>
<p>If you're good with all that, then please enjoy this fic!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Link’s life felt like a game of dice.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Some days everything was fine. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d smile and laugh with Mal and Pit, even when they played a little too hard and he got a scrape or two. He’d help people around town and enjoy completing all the little favors and chores. He knew he was Link, the ten-year old goody-two-shoes of Hateno Village. The smart, quiet kid who almost everyone liked but only a few really loved.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Some days, stuff was a little off, but he was still fine. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His head would get a little too stuck in the clouds, and it was like the world was two steps removed. Mal and Pit and the other village kids would chat and tell stories, and he’d linger on the edge of the group. He’d sit in the alleys between buildings, watching people pass by. Not saying anything, not standing out, as noticeable and memorable as a shadow. His head would be too stuffed full of half-remembered places and names to bother with other people. Besides, he wasn’t sure he’d remember who he was supposed to be around them if he did.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A steaming bowl of pumpkin soup would bring to mind a fire-warmed room, comfort from snow and hail blanketing the outside. Or some kind of rumors traded under a delicate chandelier with clear blue skies outside. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>An ocarina sitting on a merchant’s table would bring to mind green and drifting lights and a friend’s song.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A rabbit doll would bring a world of faded color but beautiful nonetheless. Or purple and blue and a room that was his but not and </span>
  <em>
    <span>wasn’t supposed to look like it did</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His mood would be dampened for the rest of the day, and if anyone asked he’d just shrug and say “I’m just thinking”. He was, but those three words didn’t convey just how much those thoughts and half-memories weighed on him, for hours or days on end. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Some days, everything was entirely </span>
  <em>
    <span>fucked</span>
  </em>
  <span>.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Someone reminding him of a forgotten deadline would make him want to throw up. A joke he told that fell flat would crush him. The crash of a dropped milk-bottle would make him jump a foot in the air and make him feel awful for breaking it. He’d slip and cut himself while helping make dinner and the sight of his own blood would send him into a panic. He’d look in the mirror and cry </span>
  <em>
    <span>no no no that’s not right, that’s not who should be looking back at me. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He couldn’t remember if he was supposed to be a kid or a king or a knight or a farmhand and it tore him to pieces. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The two things he never forgot that he was Link, and that his life was a game of dice, where anything and everything was a chance to break him for real this time.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
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